Why Animagi Shouldn't Write Poetry
by MinervaEvenstar
Summary: I forgot it was Valentine's Day, so I don't have a gift for my Moony! I think Prongs wrote a poem for Evans. If I write one too, then I may get some hot werewolf love tonight! If only I could write poetry...SiriusRemus slash. ONESHOT.


**Summary: **I forgot it was Valentine's Day, so I don't have a gift for my Moony! I think Prongs wrote a poem for Evans. If I write one too, then I may get some hot werewolf love tonight! If only I could write poetry...SiriusRemus slash. ONESHOT.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned these characters, they would be characters in novels for adults rather than children. ;.)

**Rating:** R/Mature for language and implied sexual situations.

**Minerva's Note:** I know Valentine's Day was months ago, but consider this bit of puppy love a belated gift to you from yours truly! I've actually NEVER included V-day in ANY of my fics before, so writing this was particularly enjoyable, and I'd welcome any reviews!

Why Animagi Shouldn't Write Poetry

"So, what are you giving Moony today?" James asks, shoving me out of his way to use the bathroom mirror.

Pushing him back easily, I continue looking at my reflection and fixing my hair in the just-rolled-out-of-bed style that takes twenty minutes to accomplish. Only James knows it isn't natural. Well, Remus has probably figured it out by now, too. "A blow job. That is, if he takes time away from his studies to pay attention to me." I glance at him curiously. "Why do you care? I thought you didn't want to know what we got up to when you weren't around."

James nudges me with his shoulder so we're both using half of the mirror. Nobody aside from him and Remus can get me to compromise. "As long as I know you're both happy I don't need to know the details, that's true, but I figured it was safe to ask because - stupid me - I assumed you'd be giving him something interesting today."

"My blow jobs _are_ interesting, thanks very much." I put the finishing touches on my perfect ebony locks and step back to give James full use of the mirror. He needs it more than I do. "What's so special about today, anyway?"

His eyes go wide behind his glasses as he stares at my face reflected in the background of the mirror. "You _forgot_?"

He's teasing me, but I'm amazing and can't be fooled. "Nice try, but Christmas already passed, his birthday isn't until next month, and full moon isn't for another two weeks."

He spins around to gape at my actual face rather than the mirror-version. Uh-oh. "How could you not notice? You always say that you hate this time of year 'cause the girls giggle at you more than usual. They still did it this year. How the bloody Hell could you miss it?"

I haven't been noticing much of anything lately, except in class when the sun shines through the windows and lands on Remus' light brown hair it has golden highlights, and I can't listen to what the professor is saying because I'm so busy staring. Wait, 'this time of year?' It can't be… "Prongs, are you fucking with me?"

"No." In a no-nonsense gesture he pushes his thick spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "That's Moony's job."

I narrow my eyes and lower my voice in an affect which I know is intimidating. "I'm serious -"

"I know you're Sirius." I should've known he wouldn't be cowed. He's seen me almost crying with anxiety over telling a certain gorgeous werewolf that I fancy him. I guess that makes me seem less threatening. "And, yes, it really is Valentine's Day."

The holiday when pink oozes out of every crevice? The holiday when single people wallow in more self-pity than usual? Oh, joy!

Whoever thought up this holiday was an idiot.

I open my mouth to use a few profane words my lover wouldn't approve of when there's a rude banging on the door. "You lot accuse Moony of being the most girly when you take the longest in the loo. Stop primping yourselves so I can take a piss."

James opens the door and we walk out looking impressive. Well, _I_ look dashing. My hair is like sleep-tousled satin. James pretends he can boast hair similar to mine. In reality, it resembles…Have you ever seen a picture in Muggle Studies of a person that got electrocuted? His head is like that. "Keep your pants on, Wormtail, for all of our sakes."

Peter blushes, however, considering that he just told us what to do, James' complaint isn't enough for me. I add, "Keep them on because you might need to piss in _them_ someday. We'll take as long as we damn well please."

He ducks his head and murmurs, "Sorry." That's better.

Moony believes that I'm harsh with everyone, not merely Peter. He once told me, "You're oppressed at Grimmauld Place, so when you come to Hogwarts you have to be in control to feel safe. That's why you defy the teachers' authority and lord over the other students. You have a domination complex." If Evans said something to that affect she would've been bossy and reprimanding, but sweet little Remy only sounded concerned, so I couldn't be angry with him.

I tried to lighten the mood and change the topic by replying, "I don't have a domination complex. I let you be on top…on occasion." I spread my arms and gave him a 'come to me' smile. "I'll prove it to you."

"You're missing the point as usual." In spite of what he said, he let me wrap him in my arms and for a while we didn't need to talk anymore.

"Sirius!" There's a fleeting pain on the back of my head as James hits me to bring me back to the present. I miss the memory of Remus' lovely nude body already.

"Urmf." I make a masculine sound of protest and rub my poor skull. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted me to make an excuse for you so you could skip our first lesson and sneak into Hogsmeade to get something for Moony. He's sentimental; you ought to make sure he has a gift for this bloody romantic day." He gives me his Don't Hurt My Friends expression. Normally, he'd never direct it at me, but since The Snape/Willow Incident he's been monitoring me closely to make sure I don't upset Remus again.

Snape would've deserved it if he'd gotten killed, but Remus…If I had thought about what could have happened to the kindest person I know, I wouldn't have done it. I'd die before intentionally betraying my friends, or - in Remus' case - my more-than-friend. The wolf-boy in question, being too forgiving for his own good, got over my mistake more quickly than James. Half of me is offended by James' surveillance, and the other half appreciates that it's simply his protectiveness kicking in. He isn't the leader of the Marauders for nothing.

"Thanks, Prongs." I smile and James can tell it's forced. He always knows what I'm thinking the same way I know his thoughts. Legilimency isn't necessary when two people are as close as we are.

He clasps my arm in the manner that men do when they want to hug, yet don't want to seem sensitive. "I know you love him, and you don't do these things, like forget holidays, on purpose." _These things_…We both are aware of what he's referring to.

"Thanks," I repeat. I'm annoyed that my voice is thick with emotion.

Before I can say anything else Peter waddles out of the bathroom. "Ready for breakfast?" He's entirely too chipper in the morning.

James casually responds, "Padfoot has stuff to do, but we'll head down. Let's see if Moony's already used all of the syrup." Peter opens the door for James, reminding me of a butler, as my best mate continues, "That boy has an unhealthy addiction to sugar."

"It's not unhealthy. It's hot," I insist even though the door has already shut and they can't hear me anymore. Anybody who has seen Remus suck on a Sugar Quill would agree. Then again, if I found out that anyone was watching Remus in _that way _I would have to hex the pervert in an unpleasant place…Not that anywhere is a pleasant spot for a hex.

As much as he likes Sugar Quills and - when it comes down to it - all sweets, chocolate is his favourite. I should probably go to Honeydukes and pick him up some for this damned lovey-dovey celebration. The problem is that I always get him chocolate after his transformations, so it wouldn't be special. What else do people give for Valentines? Flowers and stuffed animals? No way in Hell am I buying him roses and a teddy bear! I would loathe giving it and he would hate receiving it.

I could do something simply considered romantic in general. Scented candles? No, I'm allergic. Bubble bathes? No, everyone will be trying to use the Prefect's tub for sex tonight. Picnics? No, there's classes all day and he'd never want to eat by light of the hated moon. Poetry? Hmm, no reason why I shouldn't do that. The problem is that I'm not too great at writing school essays about facts, so I can't write a rhyming work about my ruddy feelings.

Wait, what do I mean I _can't _write one? Sirius Black can do anything!

Determined, I pull ink and a blank piece of parchment out of the bag that I carry to lessons with me. I stare at the quill, willing it to pull ideas from my brain. I stare at the parchment, willing it to cover itself in inspiring words.

After fifteen minutes of staring, nothing happens. So much for my legendary will power.

I decide to work with some cliché 'roses are red and violets are blue' type lines to try to get my creative juices flowing. It doesn't help.

Whoever thought up this holiday was an idiot.

Around lunchtime James comes back to the dorm. I can tell it's lunchtime because my stomach is making weird noises. The sounds are louder than normal since I didn't eat breakfast either.

"What are you doing in here? Why didn't you come to class after you went to Hogsmeade?" James is irritated. I guess he's had to invent lies to explain my absence to multiple teachers. Oops, I didn't consider the trouble I'd be causing him. I would apologise, but James and I never tell each other we're sorry. With a friendship like ours, apologies are irrelevant.

"I never went to Hogsmeade. I've been sitting here trying to write something." James and I avoid homework as a general rule, so it's understandable that he appears confused. I clarify, "It's for Moony. You know that he likes to read, so I figured I should write something for him to read."

He nods, following my line of logic as easily as he always does. "What've you got so far?"

"Erm." I try to hide the parchment I've been working on. The only markings on it are a few terrible lines that have been crossed out. I don't want him to see how little progress I've made. This is a stupid mistake; James' Quidditch reflexes easily snatch it away from me.

"This is it?" cries James in disbelief. "You've been up here for hours!"

I grab the scroll and answer defensively, "My muse hasn't come yet."

James rolls his eyes, completely insensitive to my plight. The git. "You write him letters all of the time over the holidays, and the ones from last summer all had so many disturbing sexual references that I stopped asking what you were taking so long to write about. I don't see how writing this is any different."

I roll my eyes back at him to let him know how dense I think he's being. "Because this has to rhyme, and there isn't a single bleeding word that rhymes with 'Remus.'" This would be obvious to anyone that doesn't have an obsession with redheads.

"Ah." He nods again. Thank Merlin he comprehends it now! Remus once tried to explain that poems do not always rhyme, but Prongs and I still don't agree with him. "See if this helps." James pulls a parchment from his bag.

Curious, I take it and inquire, "What is it?"

"A poem that I wrote for today. Maybe it'll give you some ideas."

I fight the urge to grimace. I doubt reading about snippy Lily Evans will spark any brilliance for writings about compassionate Remus Lupin. Nonetheless, I read it anyway, and am genuinely stupefied to discover that it isn't about the red-haired witch at all.

The size of his belly

Turns my knees to jelly

And makes my heart thrash.

Into his body I wanna smash.

It's better than porn

Shagging Slughorn,

That sexy potion's master,

Moaning, 'Oh, yes, faster!'

The hair 'round his lips

And his huge, huge hips

Bucking against me

Fills me with lusty glee.

It's better than porn

Shagging Slughorn,

That sexy potion's master,

Moaning, 'Oh, yes, faster!'

I fall back against my pillows, holding my stomach as I laugh hysterically. James grins in a satisfied way at my reaction. "Good, isn't it?"

Once I stop guffawing, I ask, "What in the name of Merlin's gonads is this for? I'm guessing you aren't planning on giving this to him from yourself?"

Still grinning, he replies, "'Course not. I'm debating between Madame Pince and Rabastan Lestrange."

"Go with Pince." I smirk conspiratorially. "This way you can get Filch's knickers in a twist, too. You know how he feels about Pince."

His expression turns as devious as mine. I swear, we should have been twins. Then, I could have grown up with the Potters instead of the Blacks. "Brilliant!"

"I know," I tell him truthfully.

His punches my shoulder lightly and takes his poem back. "If you're gonna be up here all day I'm going to have to tell everyone that you're ill, so you'd better not come down to dinner, and you'll have to go see Pomfrey tomorrow complaining of a sore throat or stomachache or something."

"Not come to dinner?" I protest. "I missed breakfast, and now I'm missing lunch. My handsomeness will waste away to nothing if I don't-" My dramatic declaration is rudely cut off when James shoves something in my mouth. Honestly, I hate that stag. Wait, he put a sandwich in my mouth! Honestly, I love that stag.

"There's your lunch," he informs unnecessarily. Sometimes, he likes to hear himself talk, though I guess that's the Black calling the Potter magic coming from me. "When Wormtail watches me at Quidditch practise later, Remus is planning on bringing you dinner, so you'll havta be ready with whatever you're trying to write by then."

I nod, but I don't thank him for the information since, like apologies, it simply goes without saying between us.

"You have fun, Mate." He slings his bag over his shoulder and heads toward the exit. "I'm off to spread the love!"

I warn him as he opens the door, "A lot of stuff besides love is gonna be spread today."

I hear him laugh before the door closes.

Back to business. James actually did help me, though it wasn't with his atrocious poem about Old Sluggie's cellulite; it was the mention of letters. James is correct about how often I write to Remus when we're apart. Lovesick and pathetic, I know, but I can't help it. I feel like a part of me is missing when he's not around. Anyway, if I think of this task as another note, albeit a rhyming one, then maybe I'll have more success.

I commence with 'Dear Moony,' and discover that it's easier to find words that rhyme with that rather than Remus. After a few minutes, I have the following:

Dear Moony,

You're so loony.

It makes me swoony

When we get spoony.

Dreadful. That won't do at all.

I eat the rest of the sandwich, barely taking the time to chew, in order to provide myself with 'brain food.'

I can do this. I'm Sexy Sirius, Brilliant Black, Perfect Padfoot, and other cleverly alliterated labels. I can handle a single damned poem, especially when I have such a wonderful topic to write about.

Walking over to Remus' bed to search for something to spark my muse seems like the best course of action. The jumper that he wore yesterday that would look dull on most people, but only results in him looking erotically scholarly, is sticking out of this truck. I lift the lid and take the jumper out. I press the fraying fabric against my nose and inhale deeply.

Remus' unique, irresistible scent is so strong that I almost stumble backwards. With the aroma of new leaves, old parchment, and chocolate consuming my every thought, it's easy to imagine that Remus is in the room next to me. I can practically see the book he'd doubtlessly be reading, and how his nimble hands would turn the pages; how his bright eyes would skim over the words and absorb them with quick, easy perceptiveness. I envision how he'd roll his eyes if I tried reading over his shoulder because he'd know that I wasn't really interested in the text, and only using it as an excuse to breathe down his neck and smell the same aroma that I'm smelling now.

I have to stop daydreaming to prevent myself from getting an erection. As disappointed as I am that I don't have time to get off at the moment, I'm ecstatic that thinking about my sensual lover had the desired effect; I definitely found the inspiration that I needed! Go, Sirius, you're the best!

You're right; I am. Thanks, Sirius.

You're quite welcome, Sirius.

After having this riveting mental conversation, I focus on writing whatever comes to mind. I figure that I can always get rid of the rubbish parts later.

Once I scrawl for what the clock tells me is nearly three hours, I reread what I've scribed and rewrite the good parts on a clean sheaf of parchment. Remus likes things to be tidy; presentation matters to him.

It's excellent, I decide upon completion of the project, five verses of amazing-ness. Remus is guaranteed to be so touched that he'll let me touch him.

I head to the bathroom to shower to make sure that I'm good and clean for when Moony makes me good and dirty.

"Pads...Padfoot..._Sirius!"_

"It was the gnomes!" I cry, jerking away from whatever is touching me.

"The gnomes?" repeats an amused voice. It's such a nice voice, too. Where've I heard it before?

"Moony!" I exclaim in delight. I jump off of the bed that I had been lying upon - which leads me to believe that the evil gnomes had only been a dream that happened during the kip I took succeeding my shower - and throw my arms around my lover's neck. He doesn't return my embrace, for his divine hands are occupied with the task of holding a food-laden tray.

"Mr. Moony is pleased to see that Mr. Padfoot is healthy." Sniffing his intoxicating hair prevents me from viewing his angelic face at the moment, but I can hear the smile in his tone. "However, Mr. Moony fears that if Mr. Padfoot does not release him promptly that the meal he brought for Mr. Padfoot shall be dumped all over the floor."

Reluctantly, I let go and sit down on my mattress again. I pat the space beside me, indicating that he ought to sit also. He does, though he places the tray between us. I frown at that.

"What's wrong? I had the house-elves make all of your favourites." Remus picks a peach slice off of one of the plates and dangles it in front me temptingly. I grab the end of it between my teeth and suck the rest of it into my mouth. I chew and swallow before licking off the juice that got onto Remus' fingertips. He bites his bottom lip, and I know that he's holding back a groan or a whimper or some other sexy sound. He moves his hand away from my tongue and rests it on his lap.

Now, we're simply gazing at one another, not touching at all even though we want to be. It makes my skin tingle. Despite loathing breaking the silence, I know that something needs to be said unless he wants me to shove the food he carried up many staircases onto the floor so I can have my way with him. "Do you want any?" I gesture to the meal.

"No, thanks." He shakes his head, causing his soft hair to swish around his face in a fashion that makes me want to run my fingers through it. "I ate before I went to the kitchens to get this. It's all for you; eat up, Sirius."

I obey, but not for the sake of obeying. After all, I'm not a dog…Well, actually, I am, but that isn't the point! The reason I eat it is because if events tonight happen the way that I want them to I'll need plenty of energy. The food is extremely tasty, though, when all I want to eat is the gorgeous lycanthrope beside me, it doesn't satisfy my appetite.

"Done!" I announce when I've finished. When Remus chuckles I realise that I must seem like a child for declaring such a thing. I'll see how childish he thinks I am after I give him the very adult poem that I wrote for him.

Remus stands and brings the empty tray to the dormitory entrance. He leaves it beside the door so he'll remember to bring it downstairs in the morning.

I stand also so that I can get a scroll from my bag. When Remus walks back over to me I hand him the parchment with a flourish. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

He smiles at me, making my heart skip a beat. Then, he unrolls the message and reads the words that I already know are there:

Dear Prettiest Werewolf Ever, I'd take you anywhere

If you wouldn't complain about me leaving you there.

You have to stay away from me since I want you to be near

So I can whisper embarrassingly unmanly things in your ear.

We can't have people thinking I'm girly and that I cry!

I guess it doesn't matter because when you're close by

Instead of looking at me, you read books dull and dank,

And the cute concentration on your face makes me wank.

It really, truly, is completely all your fault that I turned gay;

Your beautiful eyes and tasty kisses are why I swing that way.

Your personality is to blame too; courageous, smart, and nice.

I like when you squirm in bed more than me as Padfoot with lice.

You've stolen the secret of how to make my heart beat,

My chocolate, and my Gringott's key, you thieving cheat!

This ought to make me angry enough to give you a shove

But I can't when you make me feel such happiness and love.

I love you more than roses that are red and Sugar Quills that are suckable,

Because you're so damn perfect and your arse is so damn fuckable.

I'll wag my tail this Valentine's Day if you take a minute…or five

To tell me you love me too. Signed, The Sexiest Wizard Alive

I wait for Remus' reaction impatiently. Patience is a virtue that only the Prefect of the Marauders possesses.

He blinks once; twice, and calmly places the parchment on his bedside table. "I 'stole' your chocolate because you said it was for me. I took the key so you'd stop buying me chocolate. You need to spend your money on yourself for school supplies." He says this without any emotion showing in his face or voice.

That can't be all he as to say?! Something between panic and anger wells up inside of me. Ah, I note with relief before I have the opportunity to explode, he's opening his mouth to speak again.

"It's so nice to know that you find my books dull, and that I can't study around you now without worrying if I'm inspiring a wank."

Is he being sarcastic?

"It's lovely that you compare my movements during lovemaking to dogs with lice."

Yep, definitely sarcastic.

"And everyone wants to be considered 'fuckable.' Very flattering."

Okay, maybe I could have worded that part differently…

"Of course, you can't write a poetic letter about someone _else_ without complimenting _yourself _too, Sexiest Wizard Alive."

What gives? He once said he found my over-confidence appealing. I love him and all, however, I put a lot of effort into that, and I tell him so. "I guess I almost understand why you're offended. I mean, I'm sorry for insulting your books and shite. But damn it, Moony, I worked my arse off on that."

"Really?" the werewolf asks dryly. "It looks like you've still got your arse to me."

I stomp my foot in a completely _non-_childish fashion. "I tried my best, all right? You should be showering me with Moony-appreciation, not subjecting me to Moony-sarcasm. Your sarcasm is hot sometimes, but right now it's pissing me o-" Lips on lips prevent me from saying more. For the first time in our relationship I don't kiss back; I'm too shocked. Wasn't he annoyed a second ago?

"That wasn't" - Remus licks my jaw line - "your best." - and kisses my neck - "You forgot Valentine's Day" - and sucks my collarbone. Merlin, it feels good! - "and got me the first thing you thought of" - His tongue laps the hollow of my throat - "at the last minute." - and he bites the sensitive skin lightly.

I groan at how aroused his talented mouth is making me and push my pretty lover away. I don't want to, but I need to clarify something. Anyway, he's not pushed very far, for I like to feel his body heat mingle with mine; just far enough for me to clearly look down the two inches into his eyes. "So…Are you angry or not?" He's giving mixed signals. His words indicate irritation, and he rarely lies unless it's about his furry little problem. Although, he doesn't believe in having angry sex, thus he wouldn't be kissing me if he was furious.

"Silly puppy." He rolls those stunningly gorgeous eyes of his. "I was teasing. I thought your poem was wonderful. How could I not? It had the classic Sirius Black humour to it, and…" He trails off, apparently not wishing to say more. I'd leave it at that if a suspicious pink tinge didn't creep across his pale cheekbones. No one could ever be cuter than my Moony is at this moment.

"And?" I prompt, massaging the side of his neck with my fingertips to ensure that he won't refuse telling me what I want to know. I'm not coercive. Really.

"You said that I was beautiful and perfect, and that you loved me." We've exchanged the four letter L-word before, but we don't say it often. We aren't girls, after all. The sweet bookworm is absolutely serious when he adds, "I could never be angry over that."

I grin happily because there's no doubt that I'm going to get the hot werewolf love that I was hoping for. Must resist urge to dance like a moron. Must resist urge to dance like a moron.

"You're resisting the urge to dance like a moron, aren't you?" Remus asks with affectionate amusement in his voice. How does he read my mind like that?

I'm about to protest 'certainly not, it would be a very sexy dance.'

I don't get the chance, for he comments, "You didn't ask what I got for you." His tone is casual enough, but I know that the warm breath against my ear is deliberate. He can be a terrible tease, and not at all like the innocent teacher's pet that everyone in school seems to presume he is. I love it, and I love that no one knows it except for me.

"Do I get to unwrap the package?" I smirk and glance down at a piece of Remus that I'd like to unwrap very much.

"Yes, you do." He turns away before I can relieve him of his trousers and goes over to his bedside table. He returns with a white bag tied shut at the top with a scarlet bow. "Open it."

Eagerly, I tear the gift open and see what looks to be a mass of black leather inside. I pull it out and realise that it isn't one mass, but several small strips that appear to be bonds of some kind. "Remus," I breathe in disbelief, "what are these?"

"They're made to restrain hippogriffs during mating season. The school got a shipment in last month," he explains, calm as ever. "When I was helping Hagrid unpack them I decided that it couldn't hurt to take a few as long as I thought of a way to put them to better use." His eyelids and his voice lower to a note not quite human that always makes me want to get naked as soon as possible, "Do you know of any way we could use them, Sirius?" Any trace of Remus the Prefect is completely gone and only Moony the Marauder remains.

I stare at him and can't help the fact that my jaw opens and shuts rather uselessly a few times before I'm able to say, "If I wasn't paralysed by shock – the best kind of shock, mind - I'd kiss you."

"Hmm," remarks Remus thoughtfully. He steps closer and rests his hands on my hips before leaning up to press our lips together. The electric jolt that courses through my body gets me out of my paralysis. I drop the leather and wind my arms around his waist to grab his arse. He groans into my mouth like the sensual little harlot that I know he is, and I use it as an opportunity to slide my tongue inside. He tastes so damn good! "You taste good too, Sirius," he murmurs in a fashion that is too sexy to be legal. I hadn't noticed that I'd said that out loud. Oh well.

"You know," I smirk suggestively, "if I wasn't paralysed by the best kind of shock, I'd throw you down on the bed, tear off all of your clothes, and shag you until you scream."

"Hmm," Remus repeats. For a few seconds, nothing happens. Then, faster than I can blink, Remus shoves me onto the mattress, picks up the bonds, and leaps upon the bed beside me closing the curtains with a snap.

I can't think of anything else I'd rather receive on Valentine's Day, or any other day for that matter.

Whoever thought up this holiday was a genius.


End file.
